Breathe
by Midnight Cheesecake Maker
Summary: A One-shot inspired by a song. Rated for content. This was something even he couldn't fix. But that didn't mean he wouldn't try.


**A/N: So, before you read this I'd like to convey a few important points. I'd like to request of you lovely readers to please avoid flames. I understand the delicate nature of this subject matter. I also wish to add that this piece does not necessarily reflect my personal morals and views, nor is it my place to judge those of others. It's merely a piece of fan fiction inspired by the first verse of a beautiful and melancholy song about the challenges life presents to us set in this universe. This isn't meant to spur any sort of debate. It's purely for the purpose of entertainment. Thank you.**

p.s. Please ignore any grammatical/spelling errors. My spell check is down and frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. Haha, j/k. I'm just too tired to do it the complicated way.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or the song from which this fic was inspired. It belongs to all those other people.

* * *

It's dark in the tiny dorm room, save for the flashing projection declaring the time on the ceiling. A moving away present from his younger brother. Maybe it's a little cheesy, but he enjoys it just the same. Of course, at the moment it's taunting him as he lays wide awake, staring at the minutes ticking by. It's one of those nights, he supposes, where his mind won't stop whirling. A paper due in two days, right before school lets out for the holidays. The holidays quickly approaching and no idea what to get his parents on a starving student budget. His parents and their recent troubles. Their recent troubles being his troubled younger sister. His troubled younger sister he found only days before in a club she had no business being in after a call from his younger brother tipping him off. The slurred accusations of betrayal as he put her to bed in his room. The lack of sleep that followed as he attempted to work on the paper that was due in two days. The paper. Christmas. His parents. His sister. His brother. His sister. His sister, again.

Damn it!

He takes the pillow out from beneath his head and whacks himself in the face with it, letting out a cry of frustration. He holds the pillow there for a minute, when his ears perk. For a moment he thinks he's imagining it. He pulls the pillow away, and sure enough, he hears the familiar sound of his phone vibrating like mad atop his night stand. He reaches for it, but the buzzing has ceased. He stares at the 'Missed Call' alert and when he scrolls to check the number, he sees it's unfamiliar. Wrong number, perhaps?

But as he is about to put it back, it begins to vibrate in his hand once more. The screen is illuminated, once more sighting the foreign number. Annoyance flares, and he hits the answer key, prepared to give whoever is on the other end what-for, when his words are halted.

"Justin?" The voice is tiny, but unmistakable. "Are you there?"

"Alex?" He's a little baffled. He hasn't spoken to her - or rather, she's refused to speak to him- since the incident last weekend. He's almost convinced this is a drunk dial and she's about to beg him to bail her out of yet another mess.

He's not far off.

"I need your help."

He groans, laying back in his bed and once again stares at the time on his ceiling. A mocking 2:13 blinks back at him. "Alex, it's two in the morning, on a Thursday. What could you have possibly gotten yourself into?"

There's a choking sound on the other end, and Justin sit up in alert. She is crying. "Can I just come over? Please?" she pleads softly, pathetically, and completely sober.

A sense of foreboding rises in his chest. Alex never says please. Suppressed panic strains his voice. "Alex, where are you? What's going on?"

There is a sob followed by a long pause, and he wonders briefly if she's hung up. Then he hears a staggered breath and he almost sighs with relief. "I- I've made a real mess of things. I can't go to Mom and Dad. They'd kill me."

Time stops. He understands instantly, though he's silently praying it isn't true. He closes his eyes, fighting his own tears. It isn't in disappointment. It isn't in betrayal. He's truly, deeply hurting for her. His baby sister, facing something too big for even him to fix. A weak, "Are you still there?" brings him back to reality.

"Where are you? I'll come get you," he says softly.

"It's okay. I'm not far."

"I'll meet you downstairs."

Fifteen minutes later she emerges from the dark and into the glow of a street lamp. He's sitting on the front steps. He takes in the sight of her. The make-up smeared down her solemn face. The mess of her hair. Her winter coat hanging open revealing the wrinkled, haphazard state of her clothes, indicating her own lost battle with sleep. She sees him and pauses a few feet away, hesistation and fear evident in her stance. He stands, opening his arms, and immediately she closes the distance between them, folding herself into her big brother's arms and weeping openly.

He takes her up to his room, this time putting her to bed with less protesting and more apologizing. They whisper while they discuss the situation, as though their semblance of composure would shatter if they raised their voices even a fraction. He rubs her back until sometime, around 4am, she drifts off. He sits on the floor with his back against the bed, agonizing once again over the thoughts circling his head. The worries that had kept him up mere hours earlier are forgotten and he's reeling from this new developement. But he's resolved himself to stay strong for her. He just has to compartmentalize the worry and focus on the solutions.

By 8am he has a plan, and he spends the next twenty minutes outside the dorm room, pacing the hall while he makes several desperate phone calls. This earns him a few suspicious looks from passersby.

It's as though he can read their thoughts and he's horrified and enraged by it.

If those bastards really knew.

He sheds his always-polite nature and glares at the next person to toss him a disapproving look.

He finally gets the answer he's looking for from one of what feels like the hundred numbers he's called. He speaks in a low tone as he explains the situation, and bows his head in relief when they say, "Yes, we can help."

The next call he makes is to the one person he knows he can trust.

Max answers on the second ring.

"Hey big bro. I'm just on my way to class. I can't chat, but I'll call you back after school, kay?" His little brother sounds jovial as always, delighted to hear from his older brother and excited to speak with his soon.

"Max, wait!"

The desperation in Justin's voice must have made Max hesitate because a moment later Justin hears a suspicious, "What's up?"

"I need your help." There's a beat. "It's Alex."

Justin can see in his minds eye Max dropping his head in defeat. "Give me a sec. I'll call you back."

Justin waits anxiously for the next 30 seconds, chewing on his thumb nail and staring at his phone. It springs to life in his hand and he answers immediately. "I need you to do me a favour," he says quickly, skipping the pleasantries.

Max listens silently while Justin once again explains the situation. When he's finally done, he's surprised by Max's understanding, though he knows he shouldn't be. Justin has long since learned that his little brother is nowhere near as oblivious as he pretends to be, though it's a rather convincing act. But that's all it is. An act.

Max did win the competition, after all.

"How can I help?"

Justin feels guilty for what he's about to ask. Even more guilty for unloading this all on Max without Alex's permission. But he's the oldest, and he does what he has to to protect his siblings. No matter what.

When he enters the dorm, she's awake, sitting up on the bed with her knees to her chest, staring out the window that faces nothing more than a brick wall. Her mind is somewhere else entirely, he knows.

He explains the plan and she only nods her agreement before turning to stare out the window once more. He wonders briefly if this is truly her decision or if he's backing her into a corner.

He gets his answer at 3pm when they step off the subway and she pauses at the bottom of the stairs. "Thank you." He stays silent. "For everything."

After that she walks with a little less hesitation.

Right outside the entrance she stops. He feels a pang of guilt as once again the question of whether he's forcing her to do this jumps to mind. He turns to her, puts his hands on her shoulders and fights to catch her eye. "Hey." She keeps looking everywhere but at him. "Hey, look at me." She finally does, but he can't read her like he normally can. That realization leaves him even more unsettled, if that is possible, but he swallows it down the lump in his throat. "You don't have to do this. There are other options-"

"No," she interupts. There are tears lingering threateningly in the corners of her eyes. "There aren't. I have to do this. I just..." She trails off, and he doesn't know what to say. A minute ticks by and she nods, wiping her eyes furiously. "Okay. I'm ready."

People are staring when they walk through the door. There is disapproval on their faces, similar to the looks he got in the hallway earlier. He bites back the urge to call them on their hypocrisy as he walks Alex up to the reception desk.

The woman behind the desk is pleasant and, Justin finds, just a touch condesending. She gives Alex a form to fill out, and after she retrieves it and a few more people are shuffled to the back, she comes to collect Alex.

Alex rises from her seat and Justin remains frozen in his. They haven't discussed this part. He looks up at her, and he can't speak. Neither can she, but the look on her face tells him she wants to ask. Wordlessly he rises and she gives him a thankful glance. He gives her a reassuring half smile, and it occurs to him its the first time he's even attempted a smile in the last thirteen hours. Probably because this isn't really a matter to smile over, but he's at a total loss as to what else do.

They're in a room and Alex is in a paper gown. A doctor comes in holding the chart Alex had filled out earlier. "Hello, Miss Russo," she says with her own reassuring smile. Alex responds with a tiny hello and the doctor regards Justin. "Are you..?"

Justin is at first confused, then momentarily taken aback by the the implication, but understands the mistake. "I'm her brother."

The doctor seems satisfied with the answer and this time turns her reassuring smile on Justin, before returning her full attention to Alex. "Okay. I just have a few questions and then we can get started."

He holds her hand through it all. She cries and he tries not to.

When all is said and done, he pulls out the credit card he was given exclusively for emergencies. He gives it the receptionist with some hesitation. He's getting tired of guilt, but he can't imagine it even comes close to measuring up to his little sister's, so he squares his jaw and signs the receipt.

He thinks back on his conversation with Max as he walks outside to meet up with Alex. He's asked his little brother to use magic to forge the credit card bill. To trick his parents into believing the balance is still untouched. To hide all evidence of this place and the money spent, until he's paid it all back. God forbid they ever see a bill for a women's clinic. What the hell would responsible, trustworthy Justin be doing shelling out that kind of cash at a place like that? He cringes at the thought. The conclusions they would draw and the painstaking inquiry that would follow. That outcome just wasn't an option. Justin already has a plan to tell his dad he needs to pick up some shifts at the sub station again. Spending money and whatnot.

He takes her back to his dorm again. She's tired and sore and he urges her to take his bed once more. This time there's no protesting, no apologizing. Just a weak thank you before she pulls the covers over her head.

From outside the dorm he calls his parents to let them know she's safe. To beg them to go easy on her when he brings her home. "She's had a rough couple of days." He doesn't tell them anything, but he assures them Alex has learned her lesson and won't likely be giving them anymore trouble.

They still aren't satisfied and press for more.

"Justin, she disappeared to God knows where to do God knows what and you expect us to go easy on her? This is just another thing to add to the long list of things she's pulled this year. We aren't going to let her off the hook this time." Theresa's anger rings in his ears.

Justin's speaking before he even realizes it. "Look, her friend got into some serious trouble, and Alex was just trying to help her. That's why she cut class yesterday, and that's why she ended up here."

"What friend, Justin? What kind of serious trouble, Justin?"

"Look, I don't think I really have the right to tell you who, but it's the kind of trouble this girl couldn't go to her parents about." He lets this sink in.

"She should have," Theresa answers a beat later, her tone icy.

Justin rubs the back of his neck, and he shrugs, despite the fact they can't see him. "Yeah, maybe she should have, but she was petrified and Alex was trying to do the right thing by helping her out. She spent the night at her friend's house and called me this morning because she was in over her head."

A few more forged details later, and he's got Jerry and Theresa not only accepting his story, but proud of and empathetic to their daughter's actions.

He tells them Alex is still shook up from the experience and has requested to stay with him for the next couple days. They're hesitant to acquiesce, as it would mean missing more school. Eventually they consent, though, even praising him for being such a good older brother and son. Because Justin is responsible. Justin is trustworthy.

Justin never lies.

He's fallen asleep at his desk whist trying to finish the paper due the next day. It's around 11pm and he feels a hand on his shoulder. He jumps, startled, then hastily wipes the drool from the corner of his mouth. He turns and finds Alex standing behind him. She's redressed herself in a pair of his pyjama pants and his college sweatshirt. She's swimming in them and, if possible, looks even more childlike and frail than before.

Even in the dim light he can see her eyes are red and swollen. He's on his feet, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. She shakes in his arms, attempting to hold back her sobs.

"Oh God, Justin," she moans. "I don't know what to do; I'm such a mess. I've ruined everything; I'm such a mess." She repeats it over and over like a twisted mantra and he tries to soothe her. Tries to save her from more self-deprecation.

She isn't listening so he takes her by the shoulders, forcing her back enough to look him in the eye. "Alex, this isn't the end, okay?" He speaks softly, definitely. "This is life. It's messy, and full of mistakes and regrets but you can't go back. You have to go forward, or else you'll make the same mistakes all over again. Do you understand?"

She seems stunned by his words. Unable to answer.

"It was a mistake, Alex. That's all. Believe me when I tell you, you're going to get past this. You _are _going to be okay again, one day, I promise."

She slips to the floor and cradles her head in her hands. "What do I do til then?" she whimpers.

He sits beside her and wraps and arm around her. "Breathe, Alex. Just... breathe."

* * *

So, there you have it. Again, please avoid flames. I'm sensitive and I'd like to stay that way.


End file.
